


'Tis in My Memory Lock'd

by Dryad



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Community: lewis_challenge, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 19:19:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3145640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And you yourself shall keep the key of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Tis in My Memory Lock'd

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chiralove](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=chiralove).



> For chiralove! Merry Yule!

Ophelia drifted around the flat, brandy snifter in hand, noting with interest the items James chose to display. There was not a single family photograph on the walls, on the table, in the kitchen. Instead, there were books, a couple of manila file folders on the kitchen table, and on the mantelpiece, a simple framed photograph of James in University glad rags, holding his diploma and doing that _almost_ smile. There was one other picture, James in a long sleeved shirt and jeans, filthy with dirt, and another man, older, wearing a dark suit. They appeared to be in a back yard, or perhaps a garden, a long line of broken soil stretching behind them. In the picture they were looking at one another and grinning. She had the impression they had been caught in mid-laugh. So funny, to be around her little brother again. Who had changed more, herself or him? She thought that perhaps their changes - and it was clear they had both very different people from the last time they had met - made them more similar than different. 

There was a commotion behind her and she turned around, sipping her brandy. Not her favorite tipple, not by a long shot, but neither was beer and James didn't have any wine in the fridge. She very much doubted she would be able to buy the ingredients for a Long Island Iced Tea and leave them here without his disapproval. Quite frankly, that was more than she could take, end of. She was forty-seven, for God's sake, she didn't need her little brother giving her dirty looks whenever she mixed a drink.

Caressa stumbled into the lounge from the hallway, pulling James behind her. "Look, James has brought a friend! James' friend, come here and introduce yourself!"

Now _there_ was the alcoholic of the family. Okay, not the _only_ one, but certainly the most childish. And there was poor James, looking like he was sucking on a lemon. Ophelia couldn't blame him, even though the whole situation was entirely of his own making. Mummy's wedding had been…interesting. Her new husband - for the life of her Ophelia could not remember his name - seemed a pleasant enough bloke. Younger than Mummy by a few years, older than Sebastian by a few years too, which was a little weird. Her oldest brother should not have anything in common with their mother's new husband. More importantly, Sebastian and Philip wouldn't let him see a penny when Mummy died. Not that she was likely to die soon, she was only sixty-six.

"What's your name again?"

"Caressa!" James barked, his cheeks pinking.

Oh _ho_ , someone important, then. Ophelia set her brandy on the mantle piece and turned her back to the fire, let the dry heat seep into her legs. God, she had forgotten what Britain was like in winter. Not as cold as New England, but the dampness, pfaugh. Cut through a person like a hot knife through butter. The gent following James matched the man in the photograph behind her. In fact, she thought he might even be wearing the same suit…no, this one was tailored. Framed and flattered his figure quite nicely. Receding hairline, which was unfortunate, yet he wasn't bad to look at, overall.

"Robbie Lewis. Just came by to drop off some wine," he said to the room, holding up two filmy white carrier bags stretched to breaking with bottles.

"Good man," said Sebastian, heaving himself up off the couch. He put his whisky on the coffee table and reached for the bags. "You're a life saver."

Ophelia wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she had thought to bring her SmartWool socks and her Kusikuy alpaca sweater. Then again, she hadn't exactly been expecting to end up here, had she?

Caressa collapsed on the sofa, looking for all the world like a sulky teenager instead of a forty-four year old woman. Didn't help that she dressed like a teenager, too, with skin tight, acid washed jeans, one of those ridiculous furry vests made of some kind of synthetic and which came in bizarre colors like acid green and neon yellow. Caressa had chosen one in soft, candy pink. It didn't match the short black dress (indeed, the vest was shedding all over it) she was wearing over the jeans, black socks, low black boots, black hair band (complete with tiny bow set with black sequins), and Ophelia was grateful for the color change. Admittedly, she too loved wearing black, yet she looked stylish and chic, rather than a reject from Made in Chelsea. 

"He works with James, everyone," Caressa continued, plonking her booted feet onto James' coffee table with all the finesse of dropped rocks. "He's a copper!"

" _Detective Inspector_ Lewis to you," spat James.

Well now, this _was_ getting interesting. Ophelia retrieved her brandy and took a sip, blinked at the fire going down her throat. She had never seen James work with anyone before. His years in Seminary were not ones she cared to remember with any fondness. Granted, she had been a little busy with Linden and Jeremy and god, just thinking about it now made her shudder. What the hell she had ever seen in the two of them was beyond her, now. Besides, she had never understood her little brother's penchant for God bothering in the first place, and his constant judging about her relationships had rankled beyond belief. Out of the lot of them, he was the only one who had bothered going to church once he had left home. Grandmama's influence, of course. Of course, he had been her favorite, so it was no surprise she had spent the most time dragging him to and fro. Ophelia had once asked Mummy why Grandmama had liked James the best out of all of them, and regretted it as soon as Mummy's face pinched shut. Mummy's response hadn't even been an answer to Ophelia's question, instead just a directive to lay the table. Ophelia was grateful she had had Freya at 30, had had time to grow into her own person before a child had arrived. But she shoved that thought right out of her mind. Mummy had had plenty of time to become a proper parent, even if it was too late for Ophelia. And, she suspected, too late for James.

"That's alright, James," said Inspector Lewis. His tone was gentle, but Ophelia didn't like his expression. She could already tell he saw too damned much. 

James' flat was small enough for her to wander into the kitchen while still seeing and hearing everything that went on in the living room. She just wanted to be out of range for whatever was about to happen. Sebastian was there, searching for a wine glass. He finally found one, held it to the light - as if James would ever have anything less than perfect dinnerware for a comestible. Now, if _she_ were at home, she would have stacks of mix and match plates and cups and saucers and bowls in the open, sitting pretty in the shelves, whatever she had found at flea markets and tag sales that attracted her attention. If she were in Maine, Brian would be there, and Miss Kitty too. Freya might even deign to come home, if she weren't busy with college and her girlfriend.

"Sorry to interrupt," said the Inspector, looking around at all of them. Their eyes met, and Ophelia quickly looked away, heart pounding.

"Didn't realize family was visiting."

Unspoken was the following criticism - Because James didn't tell me. Ophelia snorted. As if James told anyone anything, ever.

"Our mother recently remarried," Sebastian said, walking past Ophelia and back into the living room. "And seeing as we were all still in the same country, we decided to have another little get together. We knew James would refuse to play, so the mountain has come to Mohammed."

"We're missing three," said Caressa, pouting up at Lewis. "Our other brothers, Philip and Orlando, he's Ophelia's twin, and then there's Minerva. They're on their way, Minerva texted me."

"Did she?" asked Philip, settling down on the sofa. "When was that?"

"Four-ish."

Ophelia eyed the clock on the microwave. Obviously they had stopped somewhere for food and liquid refreshment. She only hoped someone with sense was driving. In Maine this would not be a problem. She could walk to the damned bar, or drive, and someone would drive her home and make sure she was all right, maybe even stay over. The thought gave her a rush of homesickness, which took her completely by surprise. 

America, of all places. 

A peal of high-pitched laughter escaped Caressa, followed by Sebastian's deep chuckle. Ophelia was abruptly sick of their comeraderie, and moved out of the kitchen to join them in the living room. Perching on a chair, she swirled her brandy and took another sip. When she looked up again, it was to find James' Lewis staring at her while James spoke into his ear. She didn't know what he saw - no, she knew exactly what he was seeing, she wondered at his _interpretation_. Were the four of them a whole unit? Was it obvious from their coloring that they came from the same family? Was he silently judging James on the basis of one drunk sister, one partially drunk half brother, and another sister trying desperately to maintain some semblance of normality?

Or did he just see the desperation as they all tried to be light and gay. 

Was he at all fooled?

He blinked, still staring at her, and she rather thought not. James clearly held him in high esteem, so he was smart. And James was different from the last time she had seen him. There had been that chance meeting at Boston's Logan Airport. She had flown in from Rome, he was waiting for a friend on the same flight, the two of them having decided to go traveling after James had dropped out of Seminary. She remembered the look of shock on his face, the fear. To this day she had no idea why he was frightened of her. It made her sad, because at one time he had been the one she looked to, when Orlando was unavailable.

"I've got to go," said Lewis with a short nod. 

Sebastian raised his glass. "Duty calls?" 

"Something like that."

But Ophelia saw his eyes flick towards James, and knew James had put the kibosh on Lewis staying and witnessing anything embarrassing. She could understand that. She wouldn't want Brian or Freya seeing anything either. Of course, they were American, they looked at family things differently over there. 

Sebastian stood up to shake the Inspector's hand. "Nice to meet the fellow keeping our James in check and out of trouble."

Lewis' face tightened so slightly Ophelia was sure no one saw it but her. And James, judging by his frown at Sebastian. The storm that had jeopardized them ever since their arrival at James' flat suddenly threatened to break, but maybe she could rescue the moment, save it for tomorrow, when everyone would be hungover and there would be an excuse for the blow-up to come later on.

Ophelia followed James and his friend to the door, ignored the familiar flare of hurt of James shying away when she touched his back to get him to move from in front of her. Lewis was turning towards the open door when he caught sight of her ducking underneath James' arm and swung back. "I hope you don't mind my siblings, Inspector. We're not usually all in the one place for very long, if ever."

He didn't exactly smile so much as school his face into a semblance of pleasant. "I know how it is, ma'am."

"Oh god," she said, shaking her head. "You have to stop _ma'am_ ing me. Makes me feel like I'm about to buy the farm."

At his quizzical look she explained further. "American colloquialism for when someone dies. Life insurance package…" she bobbed her head and shrugged. "…it buys the farm."

"Sorry I'm making you feel old, I'm hardly a spring chicken myself."

Oh, this was good. James had relaxed, fractionally. Maybe now he would like her more? A thought grabbed her and wouldn't let go. "Would you like a massage? I don't actually leave Britain until the seventeenth - I could come to yours, or you could come to my hotel?" A fierce blush arose as soon as the words left her mouth, leaving her shaking her head in disbelief at what she had just said. "No, no! It's not what you think - "

"Ophelia is a professional," James said in his most droll and mocking voice. "A licensed physical therapist in America."

She swatted his arm lightly. "You make it sound so sordid."

"And you sound so American."

"Hardly," she said with a frown. She didn't, did she?

"I'll take you up on that offer," answered Lewis, glancing at James.

"You can do it here," said James with a nod back towards the living room. "I've been telling him he needs massage for years, I have no idea why he never takes me up on it."

Ophelia blinked. Oh…kay.

"I have supplies," James continued. 

She was sure he did. His eyes narrowed and she knew she had been caught out. "Well, whenever is convenient for you. I'm at the Old Parsonage. A couple of hours before any meal, alright?"

Inspector Lewis nodded, gave his goodbyes, and left, leaving the two of them standing in the hallway. At another shriek of laughter from Caressa, James expression shuttered as he turned to return to the living room. Ophelia took his wrist to hold him back before she even realized that was what she was going to do. At his frown, she said, "Are we good, James?"

"How do you mean?"

Ophelia shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. It's just, we're none of us getting any younger?"

He stared at her long enough to make her uncomfortable. She released him, glanced towards the closed front door. "I wanted you to know that I don't hold any grudges against you, for anything, ever. You're my little brother. I love you."

When he didn't reply, she sidled past him. Taking up her brandy once more, she wrapped one arm around her waist and closed her eyes. She hadn't planned on embarrassing herself like that, being so emotional, so _American_. Nonetheless, it was done. She couldn't take it back, didn't even want to. At least he knew.

And so did she.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure this is the same version that's up [on the comm...](http://lewis-challenge.livejournal.com/)


End file.
